Innocent but yet wild in answers. All the world is yet to praise this little soul hiding her spectacle onto her left. This as it seems isn’t a dream and isn’t yet to hold praise of holding one. All of the darkness have already faded which in the unexpected manaouvers have taken turns to inspire!

Let’s begin!

In the world of charms, outside my heart, I still don’t feel the breath seizing out the need of me. Every other day becomes a question with changing meanings. Who does pays heed to needless motivations, after all? In today’s mean world, who wants to remember the information that hurts?

My adventure with the beauty begins at home. I aspire to inspire my wants to walk up. When the ultimate magic happens, I retreat to good technology that hurts my eyes and ultimately my brain cells. And the war goes on until I push the bed with my back with no more stuttering fingers. What I mean ‘beauty’ here is the usual life; a forgetful life.

The burning light over the other end of shore plunders every hope of survival unless it doesn’t respond. So, practically it keeps a watch on us but it just keeps on staring. That light is what we need to have an answer to. This calls to find a meaning of another beauty.

As I reiterate, ” Innocent it is, yet wild in answers”. I see her yawning towards my side in bewilderness, towing her legs a little more titled and face looking for an hideout from the outside world. And I sit calm reading the story with own lenses. Unsaid is the glimpse of the another time ahead, but I hear our words in perfect sync. I don’t answer and she forgets to question that’s what keeps the distance going. While I fail to admit what her guardians are upto? Or what if it’s just a blunder? Am I just playing foul?

Let’s take the shot. I have no one else to share this word. I knew down and put a constant stare. She suddenly puts her wide eyes shut. It calm as only I hear her hair crawling down in the air for freedom.

And then, I just stop. And do what I need to do. No bad intentions at all!

Well, it’s not about me and you and maybe it’s also not about the world either. This shifting place from my feet and flashing lights on my skin from the nearby window wants an answer as to why you aren’t here where you should have been? You fear places, do you?

An account of your beauty if you would have watched beyond silly innocence of yours, I should have walked across the earth barefeet only if you would have your bright eyes on me like sun in the mornings and stars in the night! Well, you seem arrogant, so let’s just see distances but without you!

All those who wait for me fear I shall write beyond my wits if I don’t shy away and yet they won’t scream as you would listen. Mind that all world’s flowers doesn’t smell like your scent, and I don’t kill pleasure with pleasure either. So, will you spend a while on what’s going up in my mind or you’ll just make me go lull without your voice in my soul this night? Of course, you will…

As I go blank that the ruptures in my bleeding heart is no more a surprise, you have lost the money that you got to spend when happiness asks for barter and in the wee hours of midnight, I won’t come less than a scarecrow to let you scream and jump on me like a bubble in the sky. You see, you won’t be able to touch me either!

Shall I pause for you or what? Coz’ I’ve some books pending to be composed and some few prizes yet to be nameplated for me. And as I suffer a little for the vacancy that I feel now, atleast I got a cure against the current of you. Well, only if that’s permanent! I wish…

So, I know you won’t ask what’s this is about? A prank on me or just to show how much hurt it is on my side which I want to show or is it another legitimate preposition to approve of my creativity or my last effort to pick things up again, and I know you answer this is not going to work either! The glasses that you’ve on your face are smarter than me, innocent than me, and clearer than me, you piece of dirt! As a matter of fact it’s irrespective of the fact that I won’t ask for another favor which you believe to be the only reason I do anything for the atrocities that you go through. And to every irreparable point, I will say no! Enough free I am to extinguish 🔥 when the room is full of nothing. A moron I am to expect while everything you have given to me is a gift. And I focus on you a little more, I surely say it’s the love I’m talking about which I vehemently admitted to and see, how the smog have stopped hurting my eyes anymore! A mere masterpiece of nature I’m you see, a dirt!

So, whoosh the lantern on the chair, spreading fire as I bit my lips in surprise, as simply it’s the daylight and it’s consuming unnecessary fuel, as opposed to the darkness that you whooshed away like magic, once. You don’t see the lights that have begun to adore and your eyes are nothing more than another tunnel to feel breathlessness. You see, how easy it was to consume poison uptil now and in the tumbling stand of yours in today’s world, you sleep as if nothing happened and the next morning similar tune sings on your mouth. I’m sorry but I made you my uninvited guests for nothing tonight that you move back and forth and it shivers every nerve in me with the falling scene of life. I’m sorry but I made you the context of this story and I used you for my words that never were inspired from you. That who inspire atleast have a presence on the larger scale. And as I weep as I compose, you seem to be turning off the lights of yours that were once, yes once, indeed once, were heaps of hope perpuating wiseness and gentleness and goodness and truthfulness and breathfulness and every beautifulness…

Long long time ago, in the winning world, a dreamer stepped out of the pond filled with happiness spilling the lores on the floor just like that. He had one thing to come out of, and to make the people believe that ‘it’ really exists!

Smilingly​ he kept on going, the ashes made his feet burn, the sun kept tearing his head down and his heart sinking in the dust. Still he went on, to fill the list of his own; to find another happiness in town. His model of action had no failure, unknowingly he remained stiff against the world. Not doing out of someone’s saying or someone’s order but to fulfil his own self and to never question why did he actually stepped out…
One may say he’s the man, he may find something one day. One may say he’s hard man to get, he’s out of reach.
One may even affront to his mediocrity.

At least one should have stood in the front on his, asking what’s he upto? One must have been surprised to realise what makes such a commitment go further than life, isn’t it?

Lots of words in play, and his journey now stands still on the pavement of a known. He doesn’t hesitates to relate affinity in souls. He doesn’t fail to openly confess. Now what he begs on to know the other side of the story, to know what stands behind the door; what makes up curiosity take the breath out. It seems like it may set him free if he realizes. Chemically, the other world shall be answering.

In the darker walks of life, when he shouts for where he came from, what journey he is on, and now where he paused to. Of the people who play, the lives of themselves as well as the others, what shall put an end to these everlasting strong moron beings? They have adequately learnt to adapt to the situation.

He leaves a mark on the dying sun in an unfairer dusk playing games to end towards an everlasting tunnel of darkness. It shall be suffocating it seems, he thinks but no wonder if anyone won’t ever ask where did he went.

“She’s a known world, an aftermath of a brilliantly crafted story projected to selected people of questionable character. She’s something one sees and keeps in mind for a while and then forgets, as if it never happened. A moral that is never meant to be learnt or a vista that is never to be stored in a beautiful memory. Still she persists, as life persists as long as the breath is alive.”

Her charishma in the cruel world stands tall. Her tales of mystery still confuses the real you. Her smile of dignity finds a place amongst the fear of losing things. And there, we quip to ourselves if she’s still the lantern on the chair we once saw and unconditionally believed in.
Of course, she is…

Having written and asked the words of life in one conversation where the people over the other side of the world stood still, the noises made no more audible to this rather overly active ears, and the nature went curious as to how to explain the matter of facts and emotions into few words, she sat close to her knacking heart and listened to it’s every suggestion. The time was tuff but even tuff she was, smiling and giggling out of her beautiful plait. She spoke of what was meant to be spoken, an adequate answer to an adequate question.

Now having distance meant nothing but a visible knot waiting to weave a dress of life which is wore at a special occasion. She is there, gleaming her eyes on a rather questionable​ deed. In the weather of extreme temperatures, she stands lifting off every anger that ever persisted. By no means she will not ask, nor will she answer as to why she made herself the victim of nothing. Through the eyes of an another victim, she be the light holding the grace of the finest mornings of the future.

Even getting older than yesterday wasn’t easy that she remarked that she won’t be there anytime soon and she won’t solve the puzzles anymore. Her thoughts paddling over the limitless sky won’t answer to any question that will ever be asked. She chooses to be silent in the world of chaos and forgery.

So, I don’t believe in a predictable future, I don’t overdo the demand of prevalant today and I don’t repent for the withered past, and in the voyage of life’s search I see the lantern on the chair, graceful and free as she always was.

“There’s a river that keeps on flowing. There’s a sun that keeps on staring and there’s a life that keeps on going.”

The Cyclist kept on cycling his life for days to come. Shutting himself away from the world, and dancing on the flute of his own. The world seemed a mere unknown journey because he was much fortunate that destiny had become his ultimate teacher. He had all he needed for a story to run successful; the character, a reliable mate, a conflict and a solution. He never realised what else he wanted. Never but his mind throttled to recognise the unknown, together as a whole world was yet unknown. He was paddling his own, scenting his own and targeting his own.

But was this feasible? What if it make him secluded? What if it concludes him a disguised?

When everything seems successful, someone has to take steps to cut off the leisure. The train has come, but someone has to choose and step up. The winds from the windows has to be answered. The course of life has to continue.

He knew that well. He kept staring the same shine that reflected back from the bell on his bicycle from the crisp clear sun. It smelled just the right when he looked around and sensed a fresh marigold garden towards his left. He could imagine his life at the zenith of beauty and perfection.

The moment gets old the next moment we look back, and the newer gets older too when touched and felt. He warned his eyes to be careful for they had seen enough of disgrace and misfortune that the other side of the story maybe different and he has to calm down to the psalm of life could turn ugly one day. He never heard the words he taught to the people, his expression of his body seemed indispensible. To the other lives who glared in darkness, his thirst was never quenched neither with darkness or with enlightenment. But his dare to choose what no one else does brought him satisfaction.

Where I am suppose to go now, he thought. Theirs nothing bad in shying away from opportunities but what’s next? What if I keep on silent for long that this world forgets if I ever exist? What if I fail to match my face with those of my need?

Days and months went by and he now kept on staring the darkest corner of the darkest room of his house. He tried wondering the real sense of world existent in silent life. Where no one sets to call you, none bothers to disturb and those silent hours be numb for times to come. Passing the time when time is no brother of space, he watched the warm sun shifting place, from days to nights, morning to evenings, months and the next big quarrel.

He remember everything he once was, once in his own flute and everything seemed a quibble. Those no rhythm mornings, and cracky evenings and nights with no sweet dreams, he wondered if he once lived a life or a question. The answer which no one has to answer because the question is incorrect. He was never supposed to answer that question, we all don’t have to. But what was actually a question that had to be found, then had to be answered perfectly? Was he an eligible candidate? What if he isn’t, then who actually are? What if he shy away from this change? What if he doesn’t bothers?

Life is always desparate to answer itself, the method of it seems unfair to those who regret change. Better regret yourself if you! But realising this question, left him dumbstruck. He eyes were no more pleasing to the beauties because he was now a commoner trying find the meaning of life, the unsung song written on the pages of destiny by the almighty. Instead, he shelled the deeper out of himself and wondered if others do?

Life has no answer, he thought, but why is that a question then? Its illogical to get into the queue where there’s no one. It’s impossible to perpetuate emotions through invisibility. But if illogical is what makes an illogical question answer the real question, why not make logic a no sense illogical question?

The drama has no end. He still keep waiting staring the darkest corner of the darkest room. And he waited until…

I’m the answer, he thought. I don’t know where I came from, where I have to go and that doesn’t mean that I’m illogical. And neither is life. For it is a justified question put to me, to be answered by me. The bounds and adversities of life has no end, and that doesn’t means that that I’ve to keep me silent amd let the morons take the charge. Yes, this world has answered me bad, atleast I learnt what’s good. Towards the better end if I lead, let’s celebrate the fun at its best! And till it ends, make sure you breath and then leave ASAP!

What was his Cyclist journey was now the journey of his life. He didn’t wanted to come back but he had to. A new journey has to begin when one ends….